Fatal Encounters
by just sammich
Summary: The Winchesters have seen some pretty weird things in their lifetime, but they always knew why they were and how they happened. When they stumble upon a city, who's inhabitants can't be be explained by anything supernatural, they meet up with a ragtag tea
1. Just Another Job

**Fatal Encounters**

_Supernatural meets Resident Evil_

Author: ohgosh sammy

Disclaimer: I am not making profit off of this fiction piece of writing.

Author's Note: This comes from obsessing over Supernatural while reading the Resident Evil books. Also, I'm not going with the exact events in the Resident Evil books, but I will be referring to one through three.

---

**Chapter One. Just Another Job**

The shadowed mountain road was peaceful enough, but Sam felt uneasy. There was something wrong with how quiet and perfect the surrounding trees seemed. Nothing was that silent and unmoving, so he knew something was off-kilter.

"Where exactly are we, Dean?"

They'd turned off the two-laned highway forty-five minutes ago, and they hadn't seen a single car since. That alone had been odd, but there were no animals either. No birds, no deer in the woods, and no occasional mess of road-kill on the side of the road. Things weren't right.

"You're the one with the map, Sammy."

"Sam, and you're the one driving the car."

"Your point?" Dean glanced over at him. "I was looking for a shorter route."

Sam sighed and pulled the map off the dash. "Well, you found a great one, dude."

"Can't always pick a winner, bro."

The younger of the two sighed again and ran his finger along the blue line that had indicated the highway they'd been on, then down the red line that he guessed was the road they were on. It had no towns, stops, or landmarks, which seemed to fit their current surroundings to the 'T.' "There should be a town thirty miles up the road... if this is the right road," he added.

"Then we'll stop there for the night, and get directions in the morning."

"We wouldn't need directions if you hadn't turned off the highway."

"I wouldn't have wanted a short cut if you had hurried your ass up this morning," Dean shot back.

"You used all the hot water! I wasn't gonna take a cold shower."

"Had you woken up earlier, it would've been me in the cold shower," he turned his eyes back to the road. "And I wouldn't taken it."

"That's 'cause you're a freak," Sam muttered throwing the map back on the dash.

Dean laughed and looked back at him. "Don't go callin' the freak card, little bro! I'm not the one who –Dean! Road!" His attention snapped back to the world outside their little argument and he slammed on the brakes with a surprised, 'Shit!'

* * *

He walked through what used to be the RPD headquarters with a look of triumph on his grinning face. Those S.T.A.R.S. idiots thought they'd won, but oh were they in for a rude awakening. Sure, Umbrella was pissed off and worried, but he knew they'd get over it. They had after the Spencer Estate incident, which had been his fuck up, but with the other operations running smoothly they'd gotten over it and moved to another facility.

Caliban Cove had been a failure from the start. Griffith had been too sure of himself, too proud of what little victories he'd gained.

"And that's what led to his demise," his calm voice drifted away with the smoke. "The old fool." He brushed blonde hair away from his face and pushed his black sunglasses into place. _That had been my mistake, but I have a chance to learn from mine. He doesn't.

* * *

_

"The hell..."

Dean had seen plenty of disturbing things in his lifetime, but this... this took the fucking cake. The _thing _had half a head! And with what he knew about _normal _people they were supposed to have a whole head, supplied with two eyes, a nose, and a mouth. Well, the _thing_ had a mouth, but half of everything else. Along with pasty skin that seemed to be... falling off?

"Ugh... That is gross," Dean moaned in disgust with a shake of his head. "And that is _not _normal!"

"Ya think?" Sam said sarcastically staring at the bewildered creature in front of the Impala.

Dean shot him a glare before sighing and pushing his door open. "Grab a gun, Sam," he said in a dejected tone. "Man, back roads are supposed to be peaceful!"

Sam climbed out, but kept an eye on the creature that was slowly turning toward the car. Back roads peaceful? Ha! He could remember quite a few times where that misinterpretation was put to the test. The thing gave out a hungry moan, and images of _Day of the Dead _flashed through Sam's head. "Great."

Dean unlatched the trunk, then the weapons compartment and grabbed a shot gun; all cool and collected like. He cocked the gun with a sigh. "Man," Dean moaned again as he turned to face the– "Hey! Get your grubby hands off my car!" He raised the gun and pulled the trigger in one quick motion.

The creature stumbled backward and looked at him, that same bewildered, hungry look on it's face, but didn't fall to the ground. It moaned again and started toward Dean, stumbling this way and that, and Dean was in such disbelief that he just stared. It wasn't until it pawed at the gun did Dean snap out of his momentary stupor.

"You sonavabitch," he growled cocking the gun again. He aimed higher and pulled the trigger, this time blowing apart what was left of the head; blood and what was left of the brain splattered against the window and side of the Impala and on Dean's jacket and face. "Ew..." Dean muttered with a rather pissed off expression. "That's just... Oh it got my car..." he moaned before kicking the road and going back to the trunk.

Sam came around the back of the car, ignoring Dean's bitching, and bent down near the fallen creature. He tilted his head to the side, looking for a visible mark to show where and how it had been changed. He didn't find one. "Well hell," he muttered looking it over again. Still no mark. "Hey Dean?"

"What!"

"I don't think this is a normal zombie."

"Huh?" Dean peeked around the back of the car before slamming the trunk down and walking up beside his brother. "What' d'ya mean?"

"No bite pattern anywhere, and zombies don't breed... At least I hope not..." Sam explained looking up at him.

Dean frowned and tilted his head to the side like Sam had. "Well," he straightened up and shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever it is, it's right up our alley."

"How do you figure?"

"Dude, it's a zombie," he said. "We kill things like this. Therefore, it's right up our alley."

"But, Dean– Dude, it's just another job, so chill," Dean said over his own suspicion. "Now c'mon," he started toward the driver-side door. "We'll set up in that town, get some information on the woods, and check it out tonight." Dean pulled the door open and slid in before closing it again.

Sam sighed and dusted off his hands on his pants. He looked back at the zombie and frowned, that uneasy feeling returning after the fleeting amazement disappeared. He sighed inwardly as he walked around the car and slid back into the passenger side. Dean put the car in gear and sped off from the gory mess toward the town where he hoped to find some answers.


	2. Into the Fray

**Fatal Encounters**

_Supernatural meets Resident Evil_

Author: ohgosh sammy

Disclaimer: I am not making profit off of this fiction piece of writing.

---

**Chapter Two. Into the Fray**

"Well... I guess we won't be getting information from the locals," Dean said.

The town was in ruins, like a bomb had been dropped on it. The buildings and trees were burned beyond recognition and still smoking in some places. It appeared as though the fires had been doused, but small patches of flame licked at the charred remains of the town.

"You think any nearby towns could have any information?" Sam asked looking over at him. "It couldn't be secluded to this one area."

"Yeah, I guess," Dean ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Damn it. I wanted a little information... and a place to wash my car."

The younger of the two rolled his eyes. "Dude, there are more important things that your car."

"Nothing," he looked at his brother. "Is more important than my car."

"People's lives?"

"Second to my baby," Dean said with a nod before disappearing into the back seat for a moment. "Or it's a tie. I d'no." He came out holding a towel. "So hush," he told him before he began wiping the windows and doors down.

Sam rolled his eyes again and leaned against the hood, his hands in the pockets of his jacket. _Something happened here... something more than some fire... and how could a fire wipe out a whole damn town?

* * *

_

"There's a car up there."

"How many?"

"Two. That I can see anyway."

A sigh escaped the one man before he turned to the other two members of his rag-tag team. "They're either from Umbrella or someone who stumbled upon this city by accident. Either way, we need them out of here. There are carriers and possibly samples still in the area," David explained, his crisp, British accent authoritative and steady. The others knew his was running on nerves.

"I hope they are Umbrella," John growled pulling the binoculars away from his eyes, and David looked over at him, confused. "Then we can tie 'em up and leave 'em helpless against their damned virus like they did to Karen and Steve."

Rebecca lowered her gaze to the ground, but not before David could catch the sadness in them. "They may deserve that," he began. "But that wouldn't make us any better than them."

"Yeah, well, I'd give up my morels to watch those bastards suffer," John muttered replacing the binoculars to his pack.

David sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. As bad as it would make him sound, he too wanted Umbrella to suffer. They'd killed most of his team and the only loss they suffered was that of Griffith. That wasn't enough in his mind. "Let's find out who we're up against," he said looking back up at them.

* * *

"Dean, we've got company," Sam pushed away from the car and moved toward his brother, who looked up from his car.

The three coming towards them looked like people you'd see in an action or spy movie. One of the men, there were two, had an air of authority about him, though looked to be lacking in the power department. The other man, however, seemed to be all the power the trio needed. All muscle, but didn't look sluggish. The girl, who looked younger than he was, looked out of place, like the damsel in distress from the movie. She didn't carry herself as such though.

"Survivors, maybe?"

"They don't look like they were a part of this," Sam told him.

Upon further inspection from Dean's point of view, they must've looked like a threat because he reached in the backseat and grabbed his shot gun. They stopped once he'd pulled it in to view. He looked from one person to the next, scrutinizing them, before saying, "So either they're zom– Dude, they aren't zombies." Dean looked up at him and frowned. "How the hell would you know?"

"Uh.. They're walking this way a little too steadily to be the living dead, Dean," Sam pointed out, and Dean lowered the shot gun; he didn't put it away, however.

"They could be smart zombies," he mumbled feeling foolish about jumping the gun so quickly. The younger Winchester rolled his eyes, but remained on guard. Whoever these people were, two of them didn't look all that friendly.

"What are you folks doin' here?" John called to them. If they were, in fact, from Umbrella they wouldn't hesitate to shoot once they got closer. He'd bet there wasn't a person in Umbrella who didn't know who they were and what they looked like.

Dean quickly slid the shot gun out of view, though he knew it was a little too late. "Car stalled out. We're trying to fix it." Sam glanced over at him suspiciously. They'd probably guess the car was fine, considering that the hood wasn't up and there were no tools in sight.

John growled inwardly. He should've known he wouldn't get a straight answer. "Then what's with the gun?"

Dean opened his mouth, but Sam spoke up first. "Protection. We ran into something back on the road," he said. "You see, we were coming up here on a hunting trip... Guess that plan's shot," Sam said with a small laugh.

"There hasn't been anything in these woods for some time," David told him.

_Unless you count zombies and hell hounds, _Rebecca thought with slight shudder.

"Great explanation, Sammy," Dean muttered out of the side of his mouth. "Like I said. Car trouble."

"Car looks fine to me," John said taking a step forward. He didn't like these two; he didn't trust them. They were lying about their motives.

"Looks can be deceiving," Dean told him stepping in front of Sam.

John was taken aback by the lack of fear coming from the smaller, though apparently older of the two, man. Usually, when John stepped up and decided enough bullshit was enough the other person backed down. This man didn't. Instead, he stepped right up to face him.

Sam looked between the two before eyeing the shot gun still in Dean's hands. He grabbed and pulled gently, and Dean let it go; David reached for his hand gun. Sam clicked the safety on and set it back in the back seat before closing the door. "Look... we don't want any trouble. We're just trying to get our car fixed and then get back on the road."

David's grip relaxed before his hand slid from the inside of his jacket. "We can help with that if you'd like."

"We're fine," Dean said, his eyes still meeting John's. _Besides, no one but Sam, dad, or I can touch _my _car._

"Are you sure? We could– I said we're fine," Dean's eyes darted over to David for a moment before they settled back on John. "Try and start it again," he said over his shoulder to Sam.

Sam nodded before sliding behind Dean and opening the driver side door; David tensed again. For all he knew they could have more weapons in the front. But when Sam slid in, David relaxed again. Sam turned the keys and the motor thundered to life.

"Guess you were right," David said.

"Yeah, so why not get on your way," John said with a nod, and Rebecca couldn't help but sigh. He was obviously bothered about the indifference this man showed about his size, and having him step up to meet his challenge must've been another blow.

"Alright... but before we go, why not tell me what _you _are doing out here?" Dean asked. "There aren't any towns this far out in no man's land, and hell, there's nothing here," he said with vague wave at the surroundings.

"U-uhm... that's where you're wrong," Rebecca said, fear lilting her young voice.

David, John, and Dean turned and looked the way she was facing. In the dying rays of the sun, red eyes glowed and malicious growls echoed through the remains of the dead city. Rebecca was ghostly pale, memories from her first encounter flooding back. Crash. Waiting. Attack. Running. Howls. Hiding. She stumbled back a step, her hand brushing against her gun.

"What the fuck are those?" Dean asked.

"Get in your car," David said, his voice taking on a commanding tone.

Dean looked over at him before scoffing. "No way in hell." _They could attack the car..._

"Get in your car, now," he said again, this time looking directly at Dean.

He shook his head and looked over at Sam, who was climbing out of the Impala. "I'm not risking the safety of my car, man."

"Did you not hear him," John asked, his gun drawn. "Get in your car." The dogs moved closer.

"Don't order me around, buddy," Dean said before moving toward the trunk of the car. He lifted the lid and then the weapons compartment; both out of view. He pulled out his trusty hand gun and handed one to Sam. He pulled the hammer back and looked at John again. "Besides, by the looks of things, you aren't carrying any extra rounds."

John stared at him a moment longer before the thundering of David's gun drew his attention back to the present problem.

"Sam! Take the back!" John didn't have time to register what that meant before he heard gun shots echoing behind him. Surrounded? When had that happened? He caught a glimpse of Dean from the corner of his eye firing over the roof of his car. "Smart bastards," he heard him mutter.

* * *

"What are they?" Sam nudged one of the corpses with the toe of his boot, his hand gun still at ready.

"Looks like what a hell hound looks like after we're done with 'em," Dean said, now standing beside him. He glanced over his shoulder at the other three people, who were now looking at them instead of the dogs. "We've got some explaining to do, Sammy."

"Figured we would," Sam clicked the safety on his gun, figuring it was safe to, and sighed. "Not like they'll buy the whole 'hunting-trip-gone-to-hell story anymore."

"Yeah..." Dean scratched the back of his head before blowing out a breath of air. "This'll be fun."


End file.
